Building the Solar Kiln.

So today in a fit of can do spirit we started on the solar kiln. Scott drew up two plans, and then we argued over the merits of each one and then we picked the one that looked the most complicated to build because of course we did. Then Scott went to town to pick up the plywood we would need and some cat food because there would be no way to build this without Tom Tom Tiger trying to sleep on it and then I took the dog for a walk and then Scott got back and then we got the plans and got started.

First we built the floor and then the floor support thingamajigs and then there was a whole lot of cutting old boards from the barn into the right thickness. Of course the plan mostly existed in Scott's head, with a token out of perspective drawing propped up on the front of the blazer that doesn't run right now because this is the country and we have to have at least one vehicle that doesn't work.

So for me I spent a lot of time measuring old barn boards and bringing them up and then we put things together that I had no idea what they were other then rectangles because Scott was the undisputed leader and I can tell you right now that is possible to mark, measure and screw together boards without the slightest idea what you are putting together.

Eventually though to begin to make sense.

The final structure will be a trapezoid, with one long angled wall that will lift up to allow us to load it with logs. Also there will need to some sort of rack or something that keeps the logs from touching because air flow or log cooties or some shit. I dunno this is Scott's brain child because my plan of coating the logs in preserver was a big fat fucking failure.

Whatever, I am over that now. Here have a picture:

So these will make a trapezoid. Somehow. Possibly with magic. And I am sure this will all make sense in the next post. Or maybe it won't and the whole thing will catch on fire and we will agree never to speak of this again. 

Whichever.

So we built the main walls and then realized that we were missing key bits like hinges and adhesive and the energy left to give a damn so we quit for the day and just hoped that we didn't have to go anywhere in a hurry because without really intending to we had blocked in our car with carpentry.

It happens.

Anyway now all that's left is to build the end pieces and the fiddly shit and then we, uh, do whatever else that needs to happen that I don't know about because this is all in Scott's brain and I can't read minds.

Well I can't really read minds. We have been married long enough I can kinda do it, but mostly I end up reading shit like “This person is weirding me out right now please save me or call my phone or text me or something” and “I hope that movie I bought is good and I am fantasizing about what I want it to be right now instead of what I am supposed to be doing” and “I think what you are doing is stupid but I don't want to hurt your feelings so I am going to try not to involve myself or say anything” and “I am thinking through this problem and the solution is evading me because it's a dick like that” and “I just woke up what are you talking about/what's going on/it's too early for information” and “wow I am like super bored right now” and “I'm hungry but I don't know what I want to eat -are you eating anything good right now? But I can't look too interested because then you will think I am judging you and you will think you are fat even though you are not fat because we just like shoveled a shit ton of gravel around.”

Unfortunately I can't read building plans out of his head. Or anybodies head. Or even if I could that would suck because it would be, like the worst kind of super power ever and I don't think that it would stop any crimes. I don't even think that I could use it to be a super villain because I am pretty sure that architecture spying isn't even a real thing. Even though I kinda wish it was because then The Fountainhead would have been like a million times better and probably contained less rape.

And also more super villains. Architecture super villains.

Also I forgot what we were talking about. Oh right the solar kiln. We are building one. And it's not even evil.

That I know of.

For all I know it could be plotting against us right now.

Probably not though.

I haven't detected that “I'm making this structure into a living embodiment of pure evil” vibe from Scott yet. Stick around though because we are not done and we might end up dousing this thing in holy water while yelling about the spirit of Christ.

What?

It could happen.

Drying the Logs and a Solar Kiln.

So the latest news in our saga of getting logs for the house involves some mold. Namely that we live in a goddamned swamp and almost and all of the logs I had debarked were molding. So then we sprayed them with bleach, which promptly made them look like ass. So then we sanded and scraped the dead mold super bleached layers off and treated the logs with a sealer.

And they kept on molding.

 Pictured: failure.

 So then I freaked out a little bit because these fuckers are going to have to last for like, years until we can put them in the damn house where they belong. Of course at this point I felt like I was out of options because I had never thought to buy a book about building with logs because I was making a stone house and it would have never occurred to me before now that the more logs we cut down and drag out of the forest the less money we will have to spend on lumber. Even though books about log cabins probably would not have helped me anyways because they assume you are buying already treated and dried lumber because all of those are written for people with money and shit. And it's also a moot point because we just poured like 400$ into the driveway because nature and culvert pipes can be real assholes.

So then Scott stepped up to the plate, using things like the WV agriculture extension office and pointed out that what we really needed was a kiln for drying lumber. And I pointed out that we were, like poor. And then he pointed out that we could build a solar kiln. And then I was all like YES! The sun is good and free!

The only problem was that most the plans called for fancy things like, not starting this project this late in the season and it might need fans and floor drains and junk. So we argued and made plans to skip building it this season and wrap the logs individually like they were cigars in the most ghetto attempt ever to stop the demon mold. Of course at this juncture Scott pointed out that we only had light blue heavy plastic to wrap them in and I pointed out that this was just like baking and I didn't think we could substitute that many ingredients and steps and still come out with a dried mold free log. Since at that point I think this whole plan would have been more like trying to make bread by taking powered sugar and mixing it with lard and then hitting it with a rolling pin and putting it in the sun and expecting a nice sour dough.

So after coming to our senses we then went to price heavy duty black plastic and I had I minor cardiac event and then we were like maybe we should not waste any of this and just go ahead and make the whole damn kiln. Of course this also means that we have to make it storeable because expecting it and its plastic covered surfaces to survive the winter would be like expecting one of those hairless cats to survive just fine outside on your vacation to the north pole for Christmas.

It ain't gonna make it, is what I am saying.

So stay tuned for our exciting adventure building a solar kiln and swearing and getting splinters and me getting more sawdust down my chest and having my living room invaded by battery chargers and sandpaper and screws and bolts and tape measures and gloves because my living room clearly = shed.

Not that I am bitter or anything.

And normally I would say something about how mobile homes suck and we are going to be building that house except that is exactly what we are trying to do right now and somehow that still seems kinda remote even though it shouldn't but whatever because life is complicated like that.

You know what else is complicated?

Solar kilns.

Solar kilns and life, man.

Solar kilns and life.

We got the Building Permit for the House.

So in a fit of madness today, we went and got the building permit for the house. Of course we hadn't really planned on getting it today, but then Scott looked at me and was all like, we should get the building permit this afternoon. And then my brain was all like oh god that will make it real and then we have to build it and what if I run out of money or the foundation explodes or I get house cancer or what if we have like a heat wave forever and then we can never work on it and then the county gets mad and pulls the permit and I have to live in this mobile home forever and no one will love me ever again because I will be a big fat failure.

And then I was all like, sure we can do that. So I threw everything I thought I would need into my bag and then we went on down to the courthouse. Of course I had brought the plans and a copy of the plans and the septic approval paper work and then we get there and all they do is ask us how many square ft and how many bedrooms and make a copy of the septic paper work and then I paid them 50$ for the permit and we left.

I got the impression that they didn't have many people trying to build their own homes because two separate people asked if it was a modular home and then both of them had to hunt down the check mark on the form that said “site build.”

So then I shoved the permit into my bag and we left and I was all happy but inside I was kinda like, that was it? It was harder to get septic approval then it was to get a permit to build the damn house. They didn't even ask what it was going to be made of.

I could've been making a house out of tires and flaming bicycle parts for all they know.

Although that probably won't pass a electrical and plumbing inspection.

So then we came home and worked more on treating the house logs and then we used the backhoe to start clearing the house and septic site and then I kept thinking that this was finally going to happen and then I kept thinking that I should be super ridiculous excited but instead I just felt nervous as hell because now we have to build this house.

So the next step is clearing the house site and waking up in the middle of the night and thinking really? REALLY?

So I feel kinda weird is what I am saying. Like excitement and terror have smashed into each other so hard that I am left with a new emotion that I can't really identify well. It feels exactly like that moment before you dive off a diving board or a cliff or a rope swing into the water.

That feeling.

I suppose I am just waiting for it to sink in, but I somehow suspect it probably won't until I am out there in 80+ degree temperatures pouring a footer.

Or it might sink in tomorrow and I will end up hyperventilating under my desk.

It could go either way really.

Transplanting Fruit Trees or Alternatively, Never Again.

Behind my second only-for-storage mobile home there are two cherry trees. Oh wait hold on, what I really meant was behind my second mobile home there were only two cherry trees. Now there are many. How we got from one to a shit ton was that, when you stop mowing the lawn, apparently the cherry trees take that as in invitation to spread motherfucking everywhere.

Instead of looking at this as an unfortunate event, we said, hey free cherry trees.

So, in a moment of optimism so foolish I am kinda surprised we went for it, we decided to transplant the trees into buckets. So that we could then move them out of the yard and into the orchard at our leisure.

Ha ha ha.

So armed with shovels and a wheelbarrow we went out behind the other mobile home and began to dig up trees. Now, one of things about trees that are all growing together out of one master tree is that the roots will be one giant mess. But if you cut off too much root the tree won't make it and then you will be a tree murderer and then you will never be able to go into the woods again for fear of angry Ents.

Also, and I not sure I have really mentioned this enough, the soil is really rocky. Did I say really rocky? I meant like super totally a lot sweet Jesus god where are these stones coming from rocky. So what started out as a simple concept, dig in a wide circle around the tree and then pry up to force the root ball out of the ground became a super fun full sun adventure.

First off, I would only ever make it about a quarter of the way around the tree, before I hit a rock. Then I would move to another side and try that, only to hit another rock. Then I would have the choice of making the circle wider or smaller to avoid it, if it could be avoided, and then I would fuck it all up and kill too many of the roots and then Scott would glare at me because he is really good with plants and all the trees he dug up were perfect and alive and shit.

So after murdering a few I got the hang of it.

And by got the hang of it I mean I was so paranoid that I would dig an extra wide perimeter and then separate out the roots by hand. Which of course was just the fastest method ever. However even with my crazy paranoia about my unintentional plant murder, we started to run out of tree tubs. So then Scott went to the shed and got more tree tubs. And then we ran out again and he went and got all the tree tubs.

Which is how we ended up with 25 trees.

Which is, for those of you not following along well at home, a lot of motherfucking trees.

So then we were all like, where the fuck are we going to put these? In the end we ended up setting the tubs right outside the garden. Which was up hill from where we were working because of course it was because life is a dick like that. So in end we just lined them up outside the fence and Scott watered them and petted them or whatever it is one does with plants and then I went inside to wash my hands and discovered I had sunburn all over my torso. Again.

So now wearing my shirt hurts and the garden looks like a Chia Pet and I am dead tired but it's all worth it because now we have more cherry trees that are probably about to die.

Did I say that? I mean that they are going to live forever and we will love them and they will be the happiest trees ever.

Yes. Ha ha ha haa. That is what I meant.

Totally.

Also, Ent's aren't real, right? I mean hypnotically speaking, if I just accidentally killed a bunch of fruit trees and then said that the ones we moved are going to die, they wouldn't come to my house and kill me right?

Right?

RIGHT?

Oh boy.

Fruit Trees and Not Getting Enough Sleep.

The past week has been an triathlon of not sleeping due to that job thing I have to go to. Basically, I was working ten hour days, and one fucking motherfucking 20 hour one, and catching three hours of sleep between jobs whenever I could.

Because money.

Of course we would plan on planting trees the day we got home from work, because we are bad at thinking things through. Now, in a fit of preplanned madness, Scott had already purchased all the trees, and set them up on our deck. Which happens to be right outside our bedroom window.

So we did our overnight job, said goodbye to our coworkers, and drove in the darkness. When we pulled into the driveway the sun was just starting to come up, turning the eastern sky an unfortunate shade of pink. So I staggered into the house took the dog out, checked on all the ungrateful hungry mouths, and then face planted into bed without taking a shower like a fucking hobo.

So when I awoke, sometime around noon, my first thought was that I should go back to sleep. Possibly forever. I felt hungover, even though I didn't get to drink anything. Which is bullshit people. Unfortunately my sleep forever plan was interrupted by me rolling over and looking straight out onto the deck where the fruit trees were watching me.

Accusingly.

And then I had to get up.

So I tore myself out of bed and threw on whatever clothes I could find because it's not like I had showered anyway and then I threw myself outside. After a hasty breakfast Scott, King (the backhoe) and I went out to dig the holes for the trees. Which was the best part of the whole thing really. After spending so much time digging things by hand, watching King dig holes was like watching the hand of god come down. It was all like, BOOM. DONE. It's what I always thought being friends with a dinosaur would be like.

It was everything I dreamed it would be.

Which was probably a good thing, because holy hell the rest of this sucked. There is some sticky, horrible place that involves not getting enough sleep, and of running yourself into the ground without pause that once you get to certain point, nothing short of sleep and food will fix it. And I was at that place.

So out of the nine trees we needed we cursed and fought four of them bitches into the earth. Of course the holes had so much rock we were running out of dirt clay mush to refill them and then we kept having to stop working to do that thing where you zone out and stare out at the horizon for a few minutes because everything is pain.

Although that wasn't too bad because it was the perfect day. Warm and soft and not yet spring but almost, where the breeze is soft and smells no longer of snow and the sun is hot on my back. Where I can look out over the mountains and it seems like the whole world just opens at my feet and keeps going out and out forever and everything is wholesome and good and gentle and open and free and wonderful in every meaning of the word.

Which is pretty much how I got my first sunburn of the season.

Ow.

The Second Strut, or Why I Started Drinking Again.

So we woke up this morning feeling like we had been pummeled by invisible dream donkeys during the night. It was a very specific kind of pain, is what I am saying. So after completing our morning chores, shoveling the three inches of snow off the car, we put on all the thermals ever, girded our loins, and crawled out of the damn house to tackle that second wheel strut.

Well after having all that practice the first time* the second time seemed to be going better. Until we hit that damn sway bar control link Patrick Swayze bar again. After a few token attempts to remove the bar, in which we learned the bolts were so rusted on that they had become one with the universe, we just sawzalled the damn part off again.

This is not the recommended solution, we were just all out of fucks to give.

Also Scott had ordered two Patrick Swayze bars on the internet, because we are capable of learning from our mistakes and also have learned to assume the worse is going to happen. So we cut the bar off like fucking wizards, took the strut out, and shove the new strut up into the wheel well. Then we reattached the break assembly high fiveing, about how much faster this attempt is going. Then we go to take the clamp off the spring and discover that the spring has become unseated and we have to take the damn thing off again. Completely. Which we had to do TWO MORE TIMES.

Did I mention that the repair manual states that this a 30 minute job?

I didn't?

This was supposed to be a 30 minute job. A 30 minute job that we were into day two of. A 30 minute job that was going to run into day three because we had just taking a power saw to a crucial part of the car and weren't going to get the part until tomorrow.

So using the power of team work, and the power of heart and swearing, we got the goddamned, motherfucking bitch ass strut into the fucking wheel well and locked down. I repeated yesterdays performance a THIRD time, and shoved the bolts back into the break assembly and then we put the tire back on went inside and started drinking.

Halfway through dinner, I looked Scott full in the face and said, I want to crank the wood stove up to eighty, get naked, get drunk and watch some stupid, mindless Hollywood blockbuster on my laptop in bed for the remainder of the evening.

Which is how I ended up getting totally wasted to Thor.

And it was awesome.

My Shed is Filling me with Hatred.

Today was super productive. Oh wait, I'm sorry, I should have said that the first half of today was super productive. The first half of the day, we went around and collected all the firewood we had cut. Then Scott chopped when it needed it and we stacked it and tarped it. It took two hours. That part was fine.

Then Scott was all like, oh I need to change oil on the truck. So we started that and that's when everything went to hell in a poop basket.

It turns out that we needed this tool, this tool that I still don't know the name for that Scott had to draw me a picture of. Which meant that we had to search the shed for it.

Cue that sound of a record being stopped.

The shed in an unholy pit made out of lack of organization and never throwing anything away. Let me explain. It was first my dad's shed and he as far as I can tell, kept everything. Every bolt, every screw, every washer, every nut, every strap and every bit of anything he ever took apart. After about half an hour we came to conclusion that we were never going to find it.

First off none of the drawers in any of the big rolling tool boxes had labels, which for me meant repeatedly opening drawers only to realize that I had already searched them. Or when I would find a tool out in the open, being unable to locate where it should go. At this point I realize that we are going to have to clean the shed.

About that point Scott left for town.

And I discovered a very important thing. I cannot clean and reorganize an area if I have no idea what the things I am looking at are. I found things. Things I had no name for. Things that did not exist to me before now. And of course being home alone, I had no one to ask. So after awhile I kept coming up at dead ends. Here's how it would go. I would put all extension cords together, only to discover that there were three or four more hiding around the place. Then I would have to pull out the others I had stored because now they won't all fit. Then I have to find another place for all them and I end up throwing them all out into the driveway. Same thing with the rope.

I found a bunch of random ass shit, but I had no idea if I should throw it away like: three arrows with no tips. Two nozzles? I think they were nozzles. About a billion little things that go into making electrical work. Or circuit boards. Not too sure on that one. About ten chains in various states of rusting. Fishing stuff in a cloth sack. Something that looked like a lighter before people knew how to make lighters. A bunch of padlocks and a coffee can that was fill of binder clips.

About this point I started to feel the grim icy grip of defeat on me. Oh, did I mention that the shed was freezing cold despite it being warm today? So cold that my hands ached the whole time I was working in there? Yeah, that shed was as cold as a witches tit.

Do you also recall Holly's theory that all the buildings with no foundations are sinking into the earth like Miss Brisby's house in the Rat's of NIMH? Yeah. This is after I had to take a shovel to get both shed doors open to ninety degrees.

So after a while I realized that the sun was going down. Which meant that project time was over for the day. So I shoved all the shit I had piled up outside into any cardboard box within reach and then shoved it back into the shed just as Scott was pulling up. Even now, I can feel that laughter of that shed, secure in it's knowledge that I will never come back for it. It knows that cleaning it out will take precious time from other projects, it know of my deep inability to organize things that I have no knowledge of, it knows if it's own icy depths. Oh it knows. It thinks it's above my caring. It thinks this token attempt is all it will see.

It thinks it has won.

But it has not. Tomorrow I will summon my army of trash bags and I will fight. DO YOU HEAR THAT SHED! THIS ISN'T OVER YOU BASTARD MOTHERFUCKER!

I'll get that shed, if it's the last thing I ever do.

Moving Cinder Blocks and Why I Hate Them.

Today, today we moved all our random ass piles of cinder blocks, bricks, fire brinks and chimney blocks.

Everything is pain now.

First off I couldn't find my gloves. No wait that's not right. I could only find right hand gloves. I found three right hand gloves. I finally gave up and wore one of Scott's gloves on my left hand. It's like some one handed person broke into my mobile home and stole all my left hand gloves. Or all the left hand gloves joined a cult somewhere. Somewhere that understands them. Somewhere they won't be made fun of for being the non dominate hand. Right hand gloves are such stuck up assholes.

So one glove was a little loose is what I am saying.

Then we get out there, in the woods, next to these piles. I dunno where these piles came from. I assume that my dad put them there, but who knows. Maybe they are like cinder block fairy mounds. Any who, we back up the truck and start loading.

Doesn't that sound so tidy? We started loading. That conveys nothing of the excitement of hauling cinder blocks down an embankment and sloshing through a ditch. Luckily, I only ended up soaking my left foot through once! And I only twisted my ankle once too!

Lucky me!

Not only are cinder blocks as ugly as a chicken's butt hole, they are also heavy as hell. These particular blocks also had remnants of paint on them. Hideous paint. Sky blue and red. Like red red. Like fire engine red. Super red. The kind of red that makes me think of the Shining. That red.

After we had a truck full we took then over to where we are planning on putting that house and used them to hold the damn sand pile in. I don't know if you are aware of this, but if you put sand in a big pile it acts like a liquid, in that it will start to ooze itself flat. Until your four foot hight sand pile is a light dusting of sand all over your lawn. We were previously aware of this fact, but had only placed support on one side of the pile because being prepared for crap takes like time and energy and shit.

Which of course meant that we were shoveling the sand back into the pile while lining it with blocks. Also I noticed that the tarp was loose and the cats had been pooping in it.

Bastards.

I was standing in the truck, passing the blocks and bricks out to Scott who was stacking them. First off, you might think that this is the easier of the two jobs, but ha, ha ha ha haaaaaaa ha. The thing is, you really don't get to like, straighten up so your back is feeling that weird tense thing that is not quite a pain but really close to it sensation. What I did not anticipate however, is that once we were done and I hopped down to suck more caffeine into my face like a hummingbird, was my knees.

You know how as you get older you start having denial about your own health problems? Yeah. I kinda knew for a while that I was having knee problems. Like I'd be sitting in my chair an then I'd go to pull one leg up under me an my knee would get halfway and then I'd have to stop because it didn't want to go anymore. Yeah. That shit.

Somehow I don't think that today made them any better. I pretty much feel like I was playing that Head Shoulder Knees and Toes game but instead of pointing to the body part in question, I just mentally checked it off in my head as hurting.

Yeah. So I think it's video game time. Because nothing makes me feel better like swinging a sword into a monster's face. And then setting it on fire.

Skyrim is so awesome.